Habit
by loyallokigirl
Summary: They had formed something of a routine. Mature sexual content.


A/N: Lemons!

* * *

As the world came into focus for Doctor Bruce Banner, he was greeted with the always desirable feeling of a crick in his neck. Wincing as he tried to move, Bruce once again scolded himself for falling asleep on the couch in the lab; it always ended in various aches and pains, not to mention embarrassment.

As he shifted, he felt movement against his chest and looked down to find Tony laid across him again. Seemed the two had formed something of a habit. They would work themselves into exhaustion, refuse to give up for sleep and instead agree to take a small break and watch some TV. They fell asleep every time. At least this time they were in a reasonably comfortable position – crick not withstanding – Bruce remembered last week, waking up half hanging off the couch, only being held up by the grace of Tony's arm around him.

Thing was, Bruce thought this every night, the moment they sat down. He had yet to stop himself. He also had yet to analyze that too closely.

Gazing down at his sleeping friend, Bruce was calculating the best way to get up without waking Tony when the man snuggled closer; as though sensing Bruce's desire to get up, and choosing to remain comfortable. He tightened his arm around Bruce's waist, snuggled his face into the crook of his neck and flung a leg over Bruce's hip.

Bruce inhaled sharply as Tony shifted more, his thigh rubbing against Bruce's crotch and caused a reaction his body was too sleepy to stop.

Stifling a moan at the friction, Bruce closed his eyes and tried to breath through it. If Tony woke up and felt Bruce hard against him, he was never going to be able to use this beautiful lab again, because he'd have buried himself in the desert out of shame. However, with his eyes closed, the only thing he could focus on was the heat of Tony's hard body pressed against him, the soft, teasing flutter of breath against his neck. The curiosity of how soft Tony's hair would be, were he to run a hand through it.

A soft groan escaped Bruce's lips and Tony shifted once again, pressing his leg harder into Bruce's now rock hard cock. He was starting to wake up and Bruce needed to get the hell away and take care of himself in a closet somewhere. And then spend the rest of the day – possible the decade – unable to make contact with his friend.

"Bruce?"

_Oh god._

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, his entire face scrunching with shame. He felt Tony move and knew he was watching him, and Bruce worried for a second that his distress would bring the other guy, but he didn't feel him. He wasn't angry, just humiliated. "I am _so_ sorry." He whispered, eyes still closed because he could _feel_ the weight of Tony's eyes on him.

He expected teasing. He expected Tony to be offended. In the best case scenario, he expected Tony to awkwardly brush it off as something that happens and be forever uncomfortable around Bruce. The last thing he expected was the soft brush of full lips against his own, that hard body pressing ever so slightly into him.

Out of shock and nothing more, Bruce pushed back into the cushions and away from those confusing lips, to look up at Tony with surprise; silently requesting confirmation that what was happening was geniune. Unfortunately, Tony took that the wrong way, and sat up quickly.

"Sorry. I don't erm, I thought." Stopping, Tony cleared his throat and ran a hand through his adorably tussled hair. There was a red taint to his cheeks, a blush he'd never - _ever_ - admit too. And that was all the answer Bruce needed. Reaching up, he grabbed the collar of Tony's t-shirt and - using his surprise to his advantage - yanked him back down. This time, Tony's body landed fully on top and Bruce could feel that Tony was half hard against him. Moaning out loud, Bruce pressed a kiss to Tony's lips.

It took a moment for Tony to respond, unsure after his perceived rejection, but Bruce must have put enough passion into the kiss to assure him because within seconds, Tony was licking his way into Bruce's mouth and pressing his body into Bruce's; their cocks pressing together through the fabric. The waves of arousal coursing through Bruce's body were like fire, drawing moans and exclamations from his mouth.

Wrapping his legs around Tony's waist, using the leverage to urge _faster, harder, **more**_, Bruce latched his mouth onto the exposed skin of Tony's neck and proceeded to nibble, suck and lick; savouring the salty, musky taste of Tony's skin.

Tony was groaning against his ear, whispering Bruce's name like a prayer and grasping onto the hips beneath him with bruising force. Their hips were moving together, circling and thrusting and striving toward climax.

When it hit, when the electric storm of pleasure in his brain exploded outward, Bruce bit down against Tony's neck; surely leaving a mark. He rocked against Tony as the other man threw his head back, the combination of friction and pain from the bite pushing him over the edge.

They lay panting against one another, savouring the phantom waves of pleasure, and it occurred to Bruce that it _hadn't_ occurred to him to undress. He hadn't thought of anything other than Tony against him, wanting him, taking him. Aside from a sticky sensation in his pants, Bruce felt rather perfect at that moment.

Shakily lifting himself up onto his arms, Tony – flushed and heavily breathing and basically looking like the embodiment of sex appeal that he so often claimed to be – smiled down at him. It was a – cutely – awkward thing, as though he were attempting to smirk but his genuine happiness was turning it into a real smile. It made Bruce smile back, as did so many of Tony's grins, and before his new lover could muster up some smart ass retort that would doubtlessly make Bruce piss himself laughing, he hooked a finger in the collar of Tony's shirt and yanked him down for another kiss.


End file.
